


A Welcome Distraction

by crammit



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crammit/pseuds/crammit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following Glee Club's win at Regionals, Santana finds herself outside Brittany's house one final time. Rated M for lady sexy times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Welcome Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Glee and its characters do not belong to me. I'm only borrowing them. But I promise to put them right back where I found them.
> 
> A/N: So, I had a lot of feelings after the finale. I needed to get them away from me and when I shoved them away from me, this happened.

It takes a few minutes before you can bring yourself to raise your hand and ring the Pierce’s doorbell.  After Mr. Shue and Miss Pillsbury’s impromptu wedding, everyone had kind of drifted off into the parking lot, excited chatter fading away as people met up with their families and left to celebrate.  You’d gotten a glimpse of Brittany as she made her way with her family to their car and you’d both smiled and waved, holding eye contact for a few moments before you got into your own car.

You’d sat in the parking lot as the cars pulled out until it was just your car and the janitorial staff left, your iPod shuffling aimlessly in the background.  Thinking back on the day and the moments you’d spent with Brittany, you find that you feel a certain lightness that you hadn’t really felt since before she pushed you to pursue a path in New York City.  Being back with her and the others in the choir room, seeing them perform, and knowing that Brittany was not only graduating but going to an amazing school, it made you happy.  A little nostalgic, sure.  How many times did she and you spend curled up in your bed talking about the things you wanted to do once you left McKinley?  It wasn’t always college and more school and it wasn’t always even outside of Lima.  But it was always both of you together.  And now that together is no longer a reality, at least as a couple, you are still excited to know that she’ll at least be close to you in Cambridge.  You can’t imagine not having Brittany in your life and knowing that your best friend will now only be an hour away by plane makes you happy.

But, as you pull out of the parking lot and make your way back to your parents’ house, you find yourself feeling a little off. Turning your iPod off, you roll your windows down and let the sounds of driving through familiar neighborhoods soothe you.  As you approach the turn that will bring you towards home, your eyes catch the green of the street sign one block up.  The road that Brittany and her family live on.  The road that that holds as many memories as the one in front of your house and you find yourself easing past your turn and heading instead towards Brittany’s house.  Parking in front of the driveway, you feel a small sense of disappointment as you notice there are no cars there.  You’re not even sure why you’re there really and laugh as you realize you must look like a creeper just sitting parked outside a darkened house.  You get ready to pull away when you notice the light in Brittany’s room turn on and before you know it, you’re locking the car and walking up the driveway to ring the doorbell.

You hear the familiar gait of Brittany making her way down the stairs and then the door opens, Brittany looking just as surprised to see you standing there as you are to be there.

“Hi, San,” Pausing, she looks over her shoulder into the darkened living room, scrunching her face up as she faces you once again.  “Did you forget something earlier?”

“No, I…no,” You trip a little bit over your words, your own uncertainty as to why you are there making your brain feel foggy. “I was on my way home and, I don’t know, I just kinda ended up here.”

Smiling, she opens the door wider and steps back, “Do you want to come in?”

“Where is your family?  I thought you’d all be out celebrating or something.”

You walk forward as she answers, turning to face her as she shuts the front door and motions for you to follow her up the stairs. “They wanted to but I told them I was tired and just needed some time at home.  They were going to stay here but my little sister was so excited to be dressed up and going somewhere fancy for dinner that I told them to just go ahead.  They’ll probably want to do the whole family dinner thing tomorrow or something, which is fine.  I just kinda needed a little bit of time to myself.”

She walks forward into her room and goes to sit on the bed, crossing her legs at the ankle as she looks over at you.  You’re still hovering in the doorway, eyeballing Lord Tubbington as he brushes against your leg and heads down the stairs. “Britt, if you’re tired, I can totally go and…”

“No,” You look over at her interruption, making your way over to sit at the edge of her bed by her feet as she pulls her knees up to make room for you. “Stay, please.”

Tugging your dress down as you shift your hips and get more comfortable, you eye Brittany’s baggy sweatpants and faded McKinley gym shirt with a small sliver of jealousy.  You know you look good in this dress but you’ve been in it for hours now and Brittany just looks so comfortable.  Her small laugh prompts you to look up at her face and there’s a certain familiarity in her gaze as she gestures to your dress, “Do you want something more comfortable to change into, Santana?”

Folding your hands in your lap, you shake your head with a half-hearted, “No, I’m fine.”  Moving your hair over your shoulder, you catch Brittany’s eyeroll as she stands up and moves to one of the bottom drawers of her dresser, pulling it open and turning to you a few seconds later with a pair of your old Cheerios sweatpants and one of her t-shirts.  Standing in front of you, she holds them out with a smile and you look down to take the clothes from her hands, laughing at the cartoon cat on the t-shirt. “’I’m Pawsome’?  Really, Britt?”

She shrugs through her laugh and moves back to sit on the bed, leaving the decision on where to change in your hands.  Standing up and thanking her, you head towards the bathroom to change, the sounds of shuffling reaching your ears a few seconds before the low noise from Brittany’s iPod dock fills the room.  Closing the door, you turn the light on and gratefully remove the dress, grabbing an extra hanger from the door hook and putting your dress on it.  Looking at yourself in the mirror, you debate whether or not to remove your strapless bra, the potential relief eventually outweighing the implied intimacy of being around Brittany in just a t-shirt and sweatpants.  Putting your bra with your dress, you pull on the sweatpants, smiling at yourself in the mirror at the way they still fit.  Holding the t-shirt in your hands, you laugh again at the silly graphic that is _so_ Brittany, and reach your arms through, pulling your hair out to settle behind your back.  Turning your head, you press your nose to your shoulder and inhale the familiar smell of the same laundry detergent that the Pierce household has used for years, as well as Brittany’s own scent.  The same one that greeted you every time you stepped foot in her room and the same one that caught your tears on her stolen sweatshirt your first night at college.  You halfway expect to feel that soft punch of sadness to your gut but to your relief, you only feel a warm kind of ache that straddles the line between happiness and a bit of melancholy.  With one last indulgent sniff to the collar, you turn the light off and make your way back into Brittany’s bedroom.

“Feel better, Santana?” You watch her eyes flick briefly down to your chest and you fight the urge to cross your arms in reflex but when she catches your eyes and smirks a little, you relax your shoulders and make your way back to her bed.

She pats the space next to her on the comforter and turns to face you, sitting Indian-style as you prop your back up against her headboard, stretching your legs out and picking up a small stuffed bear from the bed to give your hands something to do.  Turning the bear over and over, you realize that it’s one of the bears you’d given her for Valentine’s day a couple of years ago.  You’d stuck it in her gym bag before school, both of you scrambling to get ready before you were late as the folly of showering together in an empty house before school was a lesson that wasn’t quite ever mastered.  You’d watched out of the corner of your eye as she’d stood in front of her locker and put her things away, knowing the moment she saw the bear because those blue eyes had locked onto yours, even through a crowded hallway, and her smile had taken your breath away.

You blink suddenly as you realize her hand had covered yours, each of you now holding onto a fuzzy arm, the tension equal until you relent with a smile as she takes the bear and drops it at the foot of the bed.  Clearing your throat, you look over to find her watching you in the way that she does and you reach forward to nudge her knee, “So, genius…are you excited?”

“A little bit,” Her answer is soft as she pulls one of the pillows onto her lap and hugs her arm around it, a gesture so familiar that you could very well be sitting on her bed, both of you 15 years old and talking about boys in a way that had nothing to do with them and everything to do with you and her.  “Mostly, I’m sad to be leaving my family and leaving everyone at glee club.  It feels…I don’t know.  It’s a little bit exciting but now that I know I’m leaving, I keep thinking ‘This is almost my last breakfast here for a while’ or ‘Who is going to give Lord Tubbington the purple Pez he likes so much if I’m not here’ and it just makes me feel sad.  Is this how you felt before you left?”

Sitting up a little straighter, you turn to face her a little more, “I felt a little bit like that, sure.  Mostly, I was trying to psych myself up for cheering in college and wondering what classes I was going to hate.  But yeah, I felt sad knowing I was going to be leaving my family.  And you.”

Looking up at you, she smiles a little bit at that, nodding her head as she reaches forward and squeezes your hand, keeping her fingers resting lightly against you as she starts speaking again, “I still have a week left to pack and then my whole family is going to drive me there so as much as I feel like I’m going to miss them now, I feel like by the time we get there, I’m going to want to jump out of the car before it even stops.”

You laugh at the image and roll your eyes at her, “Your dad would freak out.”

“Probably,” Leaning back, she clicks down the volume a little bit on her iPod and turns back to face you, her eyes clear and curious. “So, Sam told me that he sort of interrupted you when he called to ask you to come here.”

You feel your face flush a little and your eyes find something of interest on the comforter, your unease at discussing actual other romantic possibilities with Brittany causing your stomach to feel nervous.  You glance back at her face and purse your lips before answering, “Britt, I know we’re best friends but I don’t know that I feel comfortable yet telling you about all that.”

“Why not?”  She cocks her head to the side and before you can answer her, she reaches down and pulls your hand onto her lap, the gesture light enough that you could pull away if you want to. “You know all about me and Sam.  And, we _are_ friends so I want you to be able to tell me when good things happen.  Come on, is she pretty?”

“What?”

“Sam said you left a date with a hot choreographer to come here.  How hot is she?”

You feel a little uncomfortable with Brittany holding your hand with both of hers as you debate on telling her about the woman you were supposed to meet for drinks, but you decide to power through it, wanting somehow to prove that you and Brittany are the kinds of the friends that can talk about this kind of thing.  “She’s really hot.  Almost hotter than me.”

Brittany pushes on the palm of your hand with her thumbs and laughs and you want to join in but her thumbs have started massaging the center of your hand and your laugh is softer than you intended.  “She must be super hot then.  Where did you meet her?”

Keeping your eyes on her thumbs as they massage your palm, you ignore the little flutters that are starting in your belly, willing them to be phantom memories rather than a burgeoning awareness.  “She was a guest teacher for one of my classes and I don’t know, we kind of hit off, I guess.  She asked me out for drinks after a few classes and I finally decided to say yes.”

Brittany is silent while you’re talking but you can feel her eyes on your face, even as her fingers move a little further up your wrist and continue their massage. “Are you going to call her when you get back and try again?”

“I don’t know,” You sit up a little straighter as her hands move onto your forearm, the massage gone in favor of just running her fingertips up and down your inner arm.  “Probably.”

“You should.  I’m sure she’s excited to be able to go out on a date with someone like you.”  Her knees are touching the outside of your thigh and your arm is practically all the way in her lap.  You look up finally to see her face but her eyes are down and looking at your arm, goosebumps breaking out along the skin as she reaches the bottom of your bicep.  “I know I was.”

At that, you feel a flash across your chest as your stomach jumps, confusion forcing you to raise your hand and stop her fingers from moving.  Her hands instead ease lower to hold your forearm, her gaze finally meeting yours.  “Brittany, I don’t think we should talk about this any longer, okay?”

Taking a deep breath, she tightens her fingers against your forearm and leans a little closer to you, “Why not?  Isn’t this what friends do?”

“Yes, of course, Britt but, I don’t know.  I don’t think I can talk about this while I’m sitting here in your bedroom and you’re, you know.”

“What?”

“Rubbing my arm like that.  It’s distracting.”  Your admission comes out in a low voice as your honesty is shaded with something else.  Coming back and seeing Brittany, knowing that she’s going to college and moving on with her life, your friendship intact, has made you happy.  And you know that Brittany is happy, even if she’s nervous about this new path she’s taking with her life.  But being here with her now, there’s something tugging at you.  Even your outfit is a blend of you and she and you can feel the tension inside your body starting to make you antsy.

She says she’s sorry in her not-sorry voice and this time when she resumes her caress of your arm, you let her, your ears picking up the slight hitch in her breath.  Neither of you is looking at the other, both of you watching her fingers as if they hold the secret to the universe.  It’s when the outside of her fingertips accidentally brush against the side of your breast, that she pulls her hands away, balling them into fists against the pillow as her eyes find yours.  You sit up completely and just look at her for a moment, the backdrop of her bedroom fading away until all you can see is her face.  Your hands reach forward and tug the pillow from her arms and you lean over and drop it onto the bottom of the bed, the teddy bear disappearing under the edge of the pillow.

Her hands are now resting in the small space between the two of you and it almost feels like an offering.  Looking at her, you wonder if there is a part of you that will always feel this connection with her, a longing that will always run just a little deeper than friendship.  The fact that you were excited about going on a date with another woman and the fact that Brittany was able to get involved with Sam does let you know that you are both capable of moving on in a romantic sense and you feel grateful for that.  As you reach forward and grab her hands, you know that your time together as girlfriends is over.  It has been over for a little while and you feel like you are both at a place now where you can both be okay with that.  Still, as you sit across from her and watch the brilliant blue of her eyes darken, you feel a surge of need for her.  For this beautiful, sweet girl that taught you about love so that you could learn to love someone else and taught you about friendship so that you could sit here in this room with her and feel pride at where her life is taking her, even if it’s away from you.

With a small sigh, you give in and lean forward, Brittany meeting you halfway as you press a soft kiss to her mouth.  That’s all there is at first, just the light pressure of her lips against yours, her fingers tightening lightly as she pulls your hands onto her lap.  With your eyes still closed, you place small kisses against her chin and both cheeks, smiling as her eyelashes tickle your lips when you kiss her eyelids, her breath huffing out against your throat when you kiss her forehead and then the tip of her nose before gently kissing her bottom lip. Inching back slowly, you open your eyes to find her watching you, her mouth parted and soft.  Her hands leave yours resting in her lap and make their up to your shoulders, brushing your hair back and coming to rest against the side of your face, “Santana.”

Your name is a whisper and your pulse beats faster at the tone as you recognize the question she’s asking.  You nod your head just enough that she feels it with her hands and she smiles at you, her hands dropping as she scoots down on the bed to settle on her side, your own body following suit a few seconds later.  You reach forward and pull on her hip, circling her waist with your arm as she presses up against you.  She kisses your cheek and keeps her lips pressed there for a moment, her mouth trembling against your skin.  You turn your head and kiss her again, this time with a little more pressure, her lips parting for you and, as you gently stroke your tongue against hers, you feel the familiar warmth of arousal that kissing Brittany always brings.  You know how she kisses and you know what she likes and as you give her that, your heart pounds in a well-worn beat, your legs shifting and parting as she presses her thigh slowly against you.

She breaks the kiss as her hand runs under your t-shirt, the backs of her fingers brushing slowly against your tense stomach muscles, as she watches you for a few seconds.  “Santana, I just want…”

You wait for her to finish but she just licks her lips and runs her hand along your side.  “What, Britt?  What do you want?”

“I don’t know.  Just…you,” She drops her head to your chest, her breath warming the t-shirt against your skin.  “Not like, you know, to be together again or anything.  It’s just…you, Santana.”

You reach down and tip her chin up so you can see her face, her eyes bright with the same emotion you can feel in your veins.  You need this connection with her, a final ceremony in this sacred rite that has been your first love.  Kissing her, you reach down and slowly slide her t-shirt up along her body, letting her take over as you pull your own t-shirt over your head.  You each remove your own sweatpants and underwear until you are both naked, eyes and hands greedy on bare skin as you move on top of her, legs parting as warm skin heats your arousal.  You lean down and run your mouth slowly over her chest, worshiping her with soft kisses as her hands make their own tribute along your arms and back.  You kiss the base of her throat and stay there, a part of you marveling at the pounding beat of her heart against your chest that races in matching rhythm to your own.  You feel her cheek nuzzling along your hair and you lean up to press a kiss just behind her jaw, taking your own moment to breathe in the scent of Brittany’s hair.

Her hands are marking your back in wide sweeps from your shoulders to your hips, the warm press of her fingertips sparking all the nerve endings to life and you arch your back into the touch, her hips shifting against you.  The first brush of her wetness against your thigh still manages to steal your breath the way it always has and as you verbalize your pleasure at the feeling, you feel her smile against your cheek.  Pulling back, you tip your center against her thigh, feeling a rush of pleasure as her eyelids flutter, inhaling deeply at the sensation of your own wetness against her skin.  Her arm wraps around your shoulders as you drop your elbow and brace your weight, your other hand sliding along her ribcage and over the hollow of her hipbone, your thumb brushing through damp curls as your fingers press slowly inside her.  Her moan is followed quickly by yours as she drops her hand, her wrist bumping against your own as she slides her fingers inside you, leaning up to kiss you as you both begin to move slowly. 

You breathe through your nose, desperate to keep kissing her while you make love to each other, the hints of your own wetness on her hand as it brushes against you causing your stomach to tighten.  The low sound of her iPod and the slight creak of her bed as you move against each other soon are drowned out by her groans as you pick up the pace of your fingers.  She breaks the kiss to breathe and brings her free hand to brush your hair back from your face, both of you watching each other as her legs spread wider to take you deeper, her own fingers twisting the pleasure inside you towards your breaking point.

You smile as you watch the flush creep over the top of her breasts and she smiles back as your legs begin to tremble as you rock faster against her fingers, the tells of your orgasms learned over years of practice.  Pulling you down into a kiss, Brittany thrusts harder into you, her tongue sloppy as you match her pace, groaning as she tightens further against your fingers.  You feel her tug on your hair, ending the kiss as her brow furrows, her voice soft in the seconds before she comes against your fingers, “I love you, Santana.”

The feeling of her pulsing against your fingers and the emotion in her voice is too heady of a combination and you’re thrown headlong into your own orgasm, grinding against her hand as you drop your head to her shoulder, breathing out your own ‘I love you, Brittany’ as she turns her head and pulls you tighter against her body.  A few minutes pass before you each slide your fingers from each other, your hands pulling each other closer regardless of the wetness.  Keeping you close, Brittany turns on her side and you tuck yourself in her embrace, your lips resting lightly against her collarbone as your legs, sticky with arousal, slide together so there is no part of you not touching.  You wrap your arm around her back and just lay in comfortable silence with her, laughing when you hear the thump of Lord Tubbington settle into his bed in the corner of the room.

Brittany kisses the top of your head and loosens her embrace so she can look down at you, “You promise you’re going to visit me, right?”

“Of course.  Just as soon as you get settled, I promise.”

“Awesome.”

“Don’t you mean, Pawsome?” Her laugh is contagious and you giggle harder when she tickles your side, eventually turning the motion into soothing one as she brushes her palm across your ribs.

“San, I know you probably have to go soon but do you mind if we just lay here for a little while longer?”

“No, Britt, I don’t mind.” You place a soft kiss against her lips and settle yourself back against her side, running your hand in aimless patterns against her back while she keeps her lips pressed against your hair.

Tomorrow, you’ll get back on a plane and go back to the life you are building in New York City.  A full life of working and dance classes and Kurt and Rachel and new friends and hot dates and figuring out what you want to do with your life and who you want to be.  And for the first time in a long time, you’re going back to a life that doesn’t ache with absence of the girl you love but instead is bolstered by the love of a best friend that you’ll always have.


End file.
